


Sugar Free Frosting

by Nitrobot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, F/M, Food Kink, Handcuffs, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:51:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitrobot/pseuds/Nitrobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl refuses to admit that he has an obsession. Arcee doesn't mind it so much.<br/>(Mmm, sexy doughnut...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Free Frosting

**Author's Note:**

> Call it a slightly overdue tribute to National Doughnut Day  
> ...which Britain doesn't celebrate *sobbing*

Prowl was used to finding Arcee waiting for him in his own office by now- on busier days she'd sometimes lay on his desk with her valve already open- but today was quite different. She lay on her abdomen plating, legs in the air, one servo holding her helm up while the other twirled something on a digit.

He couldn't tell if the pink flash was energon or icing, but the sprinkles were unmistakable. He set the stack of datapads under his shoulder aside, trying to stop his optics flicking hungrily away from Arcee.

"Is that a doughnut?"

She glanced at it as if she was only just noticing it on her digit. Her denta glinted in a devious grin. "Looks like one, doesn't it?"

Prowl hissed air through his vents. She was definitely planning something, and he wasn't sure yet if he was looking forward to it. "Even though all organic imports have been banned?" Ever since the rust epidemic catalysed by water molecules from improperly sterilised imports, trade to Cybertron had all but ceased even before the war began. 

Arcee shrugged, shifting her servos and moving the ring to her other hand. "Well, I know they're your favourite treat. Maybe I had a few hidden away..."

Prowl's mouth was starting to fill with processing fluid, and for once it wasn't just at the prospect of seeing Arcee's bare protoform. He stepped forward carefully. "But knowing you, it isn't just a gift out of the goodness of your spark." For a while after he first met her, he wondered if she even had a spark and it wasn't just Unicron fueling her from afar. 

Two pink eyeridges raised as if she was surprised at him figuring it out so quickly, and she easily dodged his grip as he tried to lunge for the sweet, rolling onto her side. "Nope." She maneuvered herself into a sitting position on the edge of Prowl's desk, legs danging over it, while he tried to formulate another- ultimately doomed- plan of attack. 

He was up to calculating the difference between their reaction times when the sound of her interface panel opening completely and utterly distracted him. 

The silver silicon folds of her valve had a faint clear sheen of arousal over them, circled by the doughnut held lightly between her legs. Prowl swore the lube was starting to soak into the dough, and she could tell the effect it was having on him by the drool threatening to spill over his quivering lip. 

"You still want it?" Arcee asked in that low purr he secretly adored. He knew not to try grabbing for it again- if he failed, he'd have her sitting on his faceplate for the next few breems- and how was he supposed to look over scout reports in that position, with her thighs and chestplates completely taking up his field of vision? 

Besides, the sound of her moans would just make it taste all the sweeter. 

His hands curved over her thighs as he knelt, hovering his helm near her valve. Little puffs of warm air from his vents and olfactories caressed both protoform and exposed nodes, making her shudder under the weight of her arousal. The first flick of his glossa brought lube and icing into his mouth, singing on his taste nodes. Primus, how long had it been since he had anything other than regulation energon rations? 

Arcee only helped his budding enthusiasm by pushing the back of his helm deeper against her port, whimpering as his glossa licked against her valve walls and his denta nibbled at doughtnut edges at the same time. Prowl had long since mastered multi-tasking from juggling battlefield reports while being peppered with plasma fire (and he guessed Arcee had her own experience of taking advantage of a mech's weaknesses so efficiently). 

Coolant made Prowl's grip on her slippery now, but arcing pleasure had forced her to lean back on the desk and curl her legs around his neck anyway. He wasn't sure if he could even tell the difference between valve and food anymore- they were both delicious. 

Then again. doughnuts couldn't spasm around his glossa in overload and squeeze out even more lube over his chin. Arcee couldn't moan as loudly as she would have liked, what with Prowl's office only being just outside the sparring rooms, but her valve conveyed everything she wasn't able to say with her vocaliser choked with ecstasy. Prowl's own codpiece was thudding uncomfortably, desperate to join in even when it wasn't welcome. 

There was one last crumb on the rim of her valve, just outside where it was flexing around his glossa. His damp lips twitched up in a smirk as he licked it off, with another slurp of lube to wash it down. 

Only when the last sprinkle was gone did he notice that his subspace felt lighter than it should have been. He realised why a nanoklick later, when his missing handcuffs slapped around his wrists and pink servos suddenly pulled him up onto the desk. Arcee's optics were still hazy with overload, but her grin was bright and brimming with mischief. Apparently the interface hadn't hampered her reactions as much as Prowl was expecting. 

But with his hands restrained and forced above his helm, there wasn't scrap he could do even if she'd fallen into recharge on top of him (which had happened once and made him woefully late for a command meeting spent constantly worrying about incriminating stains in his armour seams). 

Arcee was rummaging in her own subspace, pulling out another familiar ring. "I always wondered what you like so much about these things," she remarked curiously, activating the cuff's bolts so they stuck down to the surface of the desk. Now he'd have to explain the holes they left there somehow. With her own servos free to move she stroked down his frame, fingering his seams and tapping on his chest lights. Meanwhile his codpiece was protesting even more at the lack of attention and practically groaning against his panel. Either Arcee could hear it or she'd amused herself enough with the rest of him, from how her touch slowly slid down to his legs. She was merciful enough to click the release, letting his spike spring out and slap gently against her abdomen. There was a few light trickles of red and blue transfluid already coasting down the ribs, gathering in his protoform creases along with coolant. 

Prowl wasn't sure what to expect, but rather than sliding her hands down his cord like she usually did, she instead pushed it through the hole of the doughnut. It started to split as it got to the thicker base of his spike, but still retained its shape when it was nestled fully on him. Arcee seemed pleased with herself. 

"Which one of us do you think is gonna finish first?" Arcee wondered out loud, lightly teasing the dribbling head of his spike with a few light nudges.

Despite his vulnerable situation, Prowl couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Depends on how much time you spend talking."

She quirked an eyeridge at his helpless hiss, lowering her helm to his cord. "Well, if you're gonna be like that..." At first it was just light nibbles that he barely felt, and exaggerated moans as Arcee realised doughnuts actually tasted pretty good. The real issue came from her digits massaging the rest of his spike, coated in transfluid and showing no sign of slowing down. 

With his servos so embarrassingly disabled, Prowl couldn't even touch her helm like she liked him doing. His legs were a poor substitute, only able to blindly kick at the air as pleasure started to mount. 

Then came the effect of her glossa and denta when they eventually got through the ring of fluid-soaked dough, lapping at the thickest rib glowing with transfluid. Either she liked seeing him suffer or was inspired by his technique, as she was still nibbling away while she lathered his spike. Her hands took care of his bulb while the rest was treated to the smooth texture of her glossa, and only his frustration at being subdued and deprived of another doughnut stopped him from overloading in the first five klicks. Primus, her mouth felt like ten different valves all gripping him at once. He strained his optics and craned his helm downwards, watching his hips starting to buck out of his control. And she was only halfway finished.

But not even the prospect of defeat managed to stop his overload just a few klicks later, transfluid streaming out of his spike as he furiously bit down on the moans rumbling past his vocaliser. The lingering taste of Arcee's valve was almost overpowered by the energon filling his mouth from his now bleeding lips. The femme herself didn't seem to mind all the fluid dripping down her face, wiping most of it off and licking away the rest. 

"If we can do that more often, I'll think about getting a few more for us," she laughed, plucking the remains of the doughnut off his sprinkle and icing-stained spike. 

With her armour clean enough now she was going for the door, and panic suddenly bloomed over the dizziness of Prowl's overload.

"Um, 'Cee? The handcuffs?"

Arcee squinted at the heavy steel around Prowl's wrists and shrugged. "They're your cuffs, you should know how to unlock them."

He wasn't yet sure if this was the best or worst solar cycle of his life, but his sirens going off just before his door closed made the decision for him.


End file.
